


There are worse people to get tortured by

by HouseElfWobbly



Category: The Invisible Library - Genevieve Cogman
Genre: (gosh I'd like to explore that more but here it's really very subtle), Broken Bones, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I mean it doesn't really contradict it since we don't know many details, Whump, but well, hm I think some masochism and sadism are implied, ignores parts of canon (like the whole thing with Bradamant)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseElfWobbly/pseuds/HouseElfWobbly
Summary: For the July Whump Prompt “Shhhh, you have to keep quiet.”(Oh no, I am so tired, I have to post it now without looking over it again, or I'll sleep over the deadline. There are definitely some things that don't make much sense, sorry!)"Involvements with glamorous female cat burglars never end up well.""And before this goes any further, my type is darkly dangerous and fascinating, of dubious morality. And yes, this caused the whole problem in the cat burglar scandal that was mentioned earlier."Irene is trying to coax a book from the Glamorous Cat Burglar that we've heard so much about, except actually she's mostly being tortured – as a total necessity of course! (If you kind of blink and tilt your head)





	There are worse people to get tortured by

Irene found herself pressed close to the cat burglar that she now seemed to be sharing a broom cupboard with. After the showdown in the hotel lobby that hadn‘t quite gone as planned, you‘d think that any other hiding place made more sense. But Carla, who had shoved her out of the gun‘s reach before creating some sort of noisy, smelly distraction – this was, after all, a world with some magic users, and apparently her lover was one of them – and dragging her up here, had obviously thought differently.

Irene, still being held by the woman behind her, decided to wait it out for now. Check how bad that arm that she had been thrown on really was. Maybe discuss the matter of the book or sneak in another one of those kisses – business did not have to be all boring if you were already on smooching terms anyway. While not ready to give up contact to the warm body behind her, or the leg draped over her own, she did want to get out of her comfortable position to assess the situation more level-headedly. Her arm was rather painful and she thought that there was an odd bend, but maybe that was just the swelling, it could just be sprained.

Tentatively, she loosened her grip on her hand that she had been clutching close to her chest when they were running. The dull throbbing intensified with the movement, making her grit her teeth. The woman behind her, who must have noticed her tensing up, tightened her hug. Surprisingly comforting, being held by a thief in a dark cupboard. Well, their last week had made her rather comfortable being close to Carla. Mentally preparing herself for possible pain, she wiggled her fingers a bit, sending a sharp aching sensation up her arm. She felt her breath go faster.

”Are you injured?”, a soft, deep voice whispered in her ear.

”My wrist.” Irene considered the implications for the rest of her mission. The target book was right here, and she hoped to find a way to negotiate with the woman who currently had it. This world did not have any advanced healing technology worth mentioning, so she would probably have to get a checkup when she popped into the Library to drop of the novella, then spend her healing time out here – or in any other world, but this one did have things going for it. There was Carla’s warm breath on her neck. She would not regret being forced to stay here a bit longer.

Carla’s grip on Irene‘s body loosened, and instead, her hand carefully wandered across Irene’s chest to find her injured one, gently covering it up, sending a sharp wave up its length. Irene let out a hiss. The burglar‘s hand paused, as if to say sorry, then started to probe Irene‘s hand and arm gently, making her wince and press herself harder against the body behind her and its reaffirming strength.

Gently, very carefully, Carla prodded Irene’s wrist. Irene let out a scream before she even recognized the bright sting in her mind as pain. The body behind her froze. A gloved hand pressed itself over Irene‘s lips and she inhaled the smell of leather. ”Shhhh, you have to keep quiet.” The following prod, while cautious, made Irene‘s eyes water. Her body was tensed up and the burglar‘s next touch made her squirm, whimper against the gloved hand and mentally beg her attractive friend for mercy. She braced herself for the next well-meaning and surely purely diagnostic jab, but it didn‘t come – instead, the cat burglar carefully pushed them both into an upright position, then let go of Irene in order to get up. ”Let‘s get you out of here”.

Clutching her throbbing wrist and listening for footsteps, Irene took a last breath of the dusty air in their cabinet. The cat burglar pushed open the door and dragged Irene along the corridor, before pausing and fiddling with the lock of a room for a while, pushing it open, and closing it behind them.  
”How are we going to get out?”, Irene asked. She did not enjoy not being in charge, but she couldn’t use the Language as long as the Carla was with her, and she couldn’t separate from her without getting the book (and at least a fleeting good bye kiss), so she accepted her situation for the moment.  
”The same way I got in”, the burglar said. Irene glanced at the window with a sinking feeling in her stomach. It would not be her first time taking this route, but she did prefer it when she had full control over both of her hands.  
”But first, let me fix you up”.

Irene had fully given up on playing the Strong Librarian Who Knows What To Do, and instead sat down on the ridiculously soft bed to watch her companion walk around the room. Carla was wearing what Irene thought were glorified jogging pants, accompanied by a black leather jacket. Sneakers. Her long, dark hair up in a bun that was secured with a pin, decorated with some sort of shiny stones. No technical devices of any sort visible on her, which was not actually unusual, but definitely worth noticing in this world’s larger cities.

Finally, Carla had formed a small pile of cloth hangers and towels on the bed, decorated with the thick strings that had previously held the curtain in place. Having resigned herself to another piece of painful help, Irene lifted her arm and grimaced at the the consequences of her movement. ”All yours”, she said.

The woman in front of her did not wait to be asked twice. She sat down next to Irene and took her hand into hers, looking at it measuringly for a brief moment. She trailed her fingers down the injury, then looked at Irene’s face. “This looks like the bone is out of place, doesn’t it?” Irene had hoped to ignore that part of the situation for now, but she had to admit that all the swelling in the world couldn’t explain the odd shape of her wrist. “Even if they heard your scream, they won’t come looking for us now. They think we’re out on the roofs already. Want me to straighten it up before we splint it?”

Irene swallowed hard. Did she want to be subjected to a fair amount of pain without anything to numb it? Not particularly, no. However, the nearby hospitals might have been notified of the… incident, and might have a description of her. Her, the pearl thief. Usually, people tended to see her as a book thief. She had to get used to this new judgment. And she was not going to leave this woman’s side before she had her book, so a detour to the Library was not an option. She sighed. “I can get it looked at when I return to my employer, but it will be a few days until then. I can not believe that I am agreeing to this, but yes, please.”

Also, she thought there were worse people to be tortured by.

The burglar ruffled Irene’s hair, then nodded. “You’ll hate it.” She handed Irene a pillow, carefully pushed her back onto the bed, gave her a kiss on the lips and got to her knees next to her, placing one knee on Irene’s upper arm, holding the lower arm upright. Irene took the chance to press the pillow to her face firmly. She considered biting on a fold of it, but discarded the idea as too cliché. It was going to be painful, yes, but no need to exaggerate.

That was when Carla started to pull Irene’s hand upwards. Irene took a jagged breath. It did not prepare her for the splitting pain as her lover grabbed her wrist with the other hand, and pressed just where it was the most tender. Irene’s forearm seemed to be exploding very slowly. She tried to pull away, but Carla’s grasp was firm, and she screamed, forgetting about the pillow, pressing it to her mouth solely because her muscles did not want to let go.

Her wrist was being pulled, prodded and bent, but really all she felt was wave after wave of pain roll over her and leave her writhing, each shaking her more than the one before. Each leaving her screaming into her pillow, gasping for air. And then it stopped.

She found herself curled on her side, pressed against her lover’s thigh. Her tears and spit had soaked the pillow and by some mysterious way, her hair had gotten into her mouth. Carla bent down to kiss her on the top of her head, then prodded her. “You did so well. Now come on. This part is hard when you’re lying down.”

Carla helped Irene sit up, then took a folded towel from the pile and rolled it around Irene’s arm. “Hold it there”, she said, getting two of the clothes hangers and holding them to both sides of Irene’s arm – clothes hangers, of all things. It looked silly how the hooks poked out on the side, but Irene could appreciate pragmatism over aesthetics now and then. She had to admit that they looked sturdy and their shape would not be an issue through the generous padding. Adjusting the hangers and tying the whole thing with the curtain strings, Carla seemed increasingly pleased.

“Done”, she proclaimed, and when she turned to face her patient, Irene was surprised to see a bit of worry on Clara’s face.  
“Have you ever done this before?”, Irene asked.  
“The setting part? Not successfully, no”. Now Carla’s worry was replaced by a tentative grin. “But does it feel better?” Irene took a moment to breathe and felt herself relax under Carla’s gaze. Really, it was better. Less or more painful than before the – hopefully successful, she thought to herself – reduction? She did not know, but after that ordeal, everything less excruciating was a relief. She nodded and buried her face on her lover’s shoulder, breathing in the calming smell of sweat and leather. She felt Carla’s lips at her neck, kissing her softly, and the hand on her back, stroking her, holding her. She never wanted to leave this place. But then there were footsteps. Of multiple people. A knock on the door.

Her resourceful cat burglar opened the window. ”We have to hurry.”


End file.
